Marriage made in heaven 
7th August, 1950 is the day when wedding bells rang for Gyanendra Chandra Deb and Nani Bala Hore. That day Nani Bala Hore became Bela Deb for good. The day when two confirmed bachelors got united for life and stayed united till ‘death do us part’ story. A very simple and normal unison, except both Ma and Baba were well beyond the marriageable age and yet, as if, made for each other couple.
Baba had a sizeable temper and Ma was always the quiet one. I do not remember even one incident when I heard my parents fighting or shouting at each other. Funny! At least not during my childhood or even while growing up or when we were down in the dumps (financially). Their skirmishes started when Ma was paralysed due to cerebral attack, years after I was already a mother of four.
Ma loved to call on her attendant to spit in the spittoon (her age-old habit) and Baba would not let the nurse give her the spittoon, because he said she did not need to do it! Ma would then bang on the bedside with her comb or whatever to call her attendant; Baba would remove everything handy from around her. My children and I were living with my parents in those days and as soon as Baba removed things one of the kids would stealthily bring in a spoon or ladle from the kitchen and give it to their grandma, so she could summon her attendant. Baba would hear the sound and come as fast as his old legs could carry him to see how she got hold of anything at all to make a noise. He would immediately take away whatever Ma had in her hand, my kids would again bring something else and give her to bang on the wall or her bed. This circus could continue if I (when present) did not stop the children. Baba never solved the mystery but blamed the attendant and she did not mind, because as she told me she enjoyed the show.
Ma spent her adult life teaching in various colleges throughout North India as professor or principal, but in retrospect I wonder how she transformed into a docile housewife looking after a staunch Brahmin widow of a mother-in-law and still staying in her good books. It had to be so, because my grandmother refused to go and live with her other married sons In Delhi or Dehradun or Agra!
Ma and Baba never quarrelled or argued in front of us children, yet when did they resolve their issues, if any? Maybe when they went out for their evening walk, I can only presume. This is one thing I failed in imbibing from my parents, but as an excuse I always felt both the parties should have the same sensibilities, which was not in my case.
Both my parents encouraged my brother and me to bring our friends home, often for small children parties and play indoor games. Baba always said if you cannot bring your friend home then that friend cannot be worthy of being called a friend. It did not matter what financial status the friend came from - what mattered was the upbringing. Throughout my growing up years I was banned only once from playing with a girl after I repeated a word she had uttered during play.
I was brought up in the same way as my brother, so I played hockey, cricket, tried to fly kites, played marbles and gulli-danda. At home we had the meccano set, scrabbles or word-making set, remote controlled helicopter or cars, carrom board and a whole set of records. The collection we had was huge and varied; whether Rabindra sangeet or Pat Boone, Cliff Richard, Elvis Presley (my favourite), Jim Reeves, I could reminiscence on and on. Not to forget some classical music - both Indian and Western, not exactly our favourites. The addition of Kishore Kumar, Mohd Rafi, Lata Mangeshkar records happened when my brother started seeing Hindi movies.
I still remember that evening in 1966 when my parents had to attend a cocktail held in honour of Queen Elizabeth at the British High Commission premises. Ma never liked dressing up or wearing jewelry of any kind, yet that evening I draped the saree around Ma and took out her diamond earrings and insisted she put it on. She gave in, even decked her neck with a matching necklace; maybe keeping the occasion in mind. Baba of course looked dapper as always in his cocktail suit. Yes we were very proud of our handsome parents. God bless their noble souls.
